Golden Buddha Part 21

"It's a home in the northern section. A second group should be at the high-rise location in a few moments."

"Keep me posted," Po said, walking to the window and staring at the column of smoke in the distance.

ON THE FRONT seat of the limousine next to Reyes, Barrett started removing his Redman Security uniform. He was wearing a pair of lightweight slacks and a black T-s.h.i.+rt underneath.

"So, Rick, do you like the galley or operations better?" Huxley asked.

Huxley was in the rear compartment with Richard Truitt. She had pulled a sleeveless blue sweater over her leather top and was now fumbling around inside the sweater, unfastening her vest. Once she got it off and slid it out from under the sweater, she rolled down the window and tossed it out. Barrett had been watching the entire affair through the rearview mirror.

"I can't say the galley is quite this exciting," he admitted.

Truitt flicked on a light in the center console of the limousine's rear compartment, then removed a fake mustache from a small clutch and slapped it on his face. Once it was straight, he removed a set of false teeth from the same bag and slapped them over his own. He stared at the results in the mirror. He was rubbing gray liquid from a small bottle in the bag as he spoke.

"By now they're on the lookout for this vehicle," he said.

Reyes reached to his chest and pulled on his limo driver's uniform s.h.i.+rt. It ripped cleanly away, revealing another s.h.i.+rt underneath. Tearing at the tabs on his pants, he unleashed the pleats. "Sungla.s.ses," he said to Truitt, who handed them over the seat. He placed them over his eyes.

At the same time, Huxley ripped the Velcro-attached legs off her leather pants and reached into a compartment in the rear of the limousine and removed a conservative skirt, which she slipped under herself and zipped up. Peeling off her false eyelashes, she took a plastic bag from Truitt and removed a wet cloth and scrubbed her face clean of the garish makeup.

"Looks like we're good to go," Truitt said.

Reyes pulled to the side of the road and the four climbed out. Walking through an alley, they made their way toward the Main Market and split into groups of two. Back on the street, the limousine sat running If182 .

with the door open. A police officer would find it there in less than ten a 1 minutes. But the vehicle had been cleaned of clues and there would not be much to report.

CABRILLO TOUCHED THE garage door opener halfway down the block and the door began to rise.

Once the van was inside and the door had shut again, everyone piled out. "They have descriptions of everyone by now," he said quickly as he popped the top off a fifty-five-gallon drum containing their change of clothes and disguises, "so change fast and make an exit."

Removing a folder from the top of the clothes, he set it aside and quickly dressed. Once he was changed, and the others were doing the same, he opened the packet and began to remove doc.u.ments.

"A couple of you are staying in town tonight," he said, removing pa.s.sports and hotel reservation forms. "We don't want too much traffic heading back to the Oregon. As always, the rule is no boozing, and stay where we can reach you so if there's a change we can alert you."

He handed out the various a.s.signments, then stared at the group.

"So far so good," he said, just as a siren approached.

Cabrillo ran over to a window, but the car continued past the building.

"Fire truck," he said. "Ross must be safely away."

He walked back to the group. "Okay, men," he said, "make like an egg and scramble."

Filing out through a side door, the men went their separate ways.

PRYOR STEERED THE Scarab around the end of the Southern Peninsula, then set a course for where the Oregon was anch.o.r.ed. Ross stepped into the opening between the seats next to the helm.

"How's he doing?" Pryor asked over the noise of the racing boat.

"Not too good," Ross said. "He's lost some blood and the top of his ear as well."

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"Is he in pain?"

"d.a.m.n right, it hurts," Reinholt said.

"We should contact the Oregon," Pryor said, "so they can have the clinic ready."

"We're on radio silence," Ross said. "The authorities might hear."

Pryor turned and looked back at his fallen friend. Reinholt smiled gamely. "The Oregon's monitoring all the frequencies, right?" he asked.

"Ground, sea and air," Ross agreed.

"And we need to maintain silence on the marine bands."

"Right."

"But the helicopter can talk, because if it goes silent, air traffic control will know something's up, right?"

"Yeah," Ross said, suddenly understanding.

Pryor reached for the walkie-talkie on his belt. "These can sometimes transmit on the aviation bands."

Ross grabbed for it and hit Scan. A few seconds later, a burgundy 737 pa.s.sed overhead and Ross could hear the pilot receiving final clearance.

Pressing Talk, she gave the call sign for the helicopter. A few moments before, he had landed and transferred Spenser and Crabtree to a waiting car. He had just returned to remove his headset when the call came in. Another two minutes and he would have been gone.

"Helicopter four-two, X-ray, Alpha," he said, "go ahead."

"Six-three, report one Indio," Ross said over the roar of the boat's engines.

Sixty three was Ross's employee number; Indio was the code for injured party.

On the Oregon, Hanley reached for the microphone. "Helicopter four-two, X-ray, Alpha, I've got it, continue to point agreed. Six-three, report Indio."

"Eight-four."

"Get me the file on eighty-four," Hanley shouted to an operator, who pulled up Reinholt's records on the computer screen. His blood type was at the top of the chart.

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"Six-three, understand," Hanley said, "Bravo affirm."

"Six-three, ETA in five."

"Terminate communications," Hanley ordered.

Ross clicked the b.u.t.ton three times. "Hit the gas," she shouted.

"Go down to the clinic and check the blood supply," Hanley said, staring at the computer, "we need AB positive standing ready."

"You," he said to another operator, "go on deck and watch for Linda's approach through the night scope. As soon as you see the boat approaching, flash the deck lights, then help her off-load the injured party."

"Got it," the man said, racing away.

At that exact same instant, the helicopter pilot was pulling a white Chevrolet SUV out of a gate at the far end of the runway. Driving down the road, he stopped at a stop sign then merged with the traffic leaving the airport. He was just touching thirty miles an hour when two police cars with flas.h.i.+ng lights pa.s.sed and then slowed to turn down the road where he had come from. Punching the accelerator to pa.s.s a bus, he turned to Crabtree.

"That was close," he said.

Crabtree was checking Spenser's pulse by placing her hand on his jugular.

"True, but we're free and clear," she said.

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operation required only a few minutes and that was good. In the distance, across the water, he could see the sweep of the searchlight from a police patrol boat.

As soon as the davit stopped in its arc, he pushed another switch.

Four of what looked like rusty metal plates rose from the deck of the s.h.i.+p and surrounded the Scarab. Then he pushed another b.u.t.ton and a retractable roof slid closed over the vessel. By the time the patrol boat pa.s.sed alongside in the channel, the man was already inside and making his way to the clinic.

THE BOAT SLID alongside the Oregon and Pryor grabbed a line tossed through the air. Tying the Scarab into the sling that would lift it back onto the deck, he waited until Ross and the operator from the control room had carried off Reinholt. Then he loosened the lines and positioned the Scarab in the slings that were already in the water Shutting off the engines, he climbed off the boat and walked over to ' switch on a nearby bulkhead. Slowly the Scarab rose from the watei Once it was clear of the upper deck, he pushed another b.u.t.ton tha rotated the davits around so the Scarab was over the deck. The entire 187.

IN HIS DISGUISE, Juan Cabrillo looked like an aging academic or a retired bureaucrat, not the leader of a group of specialized operatives.

Walking through downtown Macau, he fiddled with his personal communicator, then waited for Hanley to answer.

At this instant, his team was about one-quarter of the way through the a.s.signment and there was still a host of variables. The first part of the operation had gone well--the team had loaded the Buddha onto the helicopter as planned and made a smooth exit, but he had no way to know the progress of team two. That information would come from the control room on the Oregon.

Cabrillo had just pa.s.sed a goldsmith's shop when his communicator vibrated.

An address was displayed and he made his way toward the location.

YES, SIR," THE Macau police officer said into a cellular telephone, "both he and his wife were bound and left in bed."

"Were they harmed?" Po asked.

"No, sir," the policeman said. "In fact, whoever did this left music playing on the stereo to entertain them, and a note of apology."

"How were they restrained?" Po asked. "Do they have a description of the a.s.sailants?"

"No," the policeman admitted, "they witnessed nothing. Both of them have small punctures on their upper arms, like they were given shots from a hypodermic needle, and they were bound with plastic ties.

They only awoke when we arrived."

Whoever this crew was, they were good--Po had to give them that.

"Take the note to the lab," he said, "and make sure the technicians carefully search the house for clues."

"They're doing that now, sir," the policeman said.

"Good," Po said, "I'll be in touch."

He disconnected and turned to Rhee.

"They drugged the insurance man and his wife," he said quietly, "and left a note of apology."

Stanley Ho was becoming increasingly agitated. Not only had he been made a fool of--he had been made a fool of in an open and obvious manner. It was that son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h British art dealer.

"So I was set up from the start," Ho said loudly. "The countess was fake, her illness a ploy and the air evacuation a ruse."

Po raised his hand to be quiet as his telephone rang again.

"Po."

"Sir," the officer said, "we entered the apartment in the high-rise and found a woman named Iselda tied up in her closet."

"Was she harmed?"

"Other than severe nicotine deprivation, no," the officer said. "She's smoked half a pack of cigarettes since we untied her."

"Did she see her a.s.sailants?"

"She said it was like staring into a mirror," the policeman relayed.188.

"A woman disguised to look like her popped out of the closet and held a rag soaked with something to her mouth. That's all she remembers."

Po held his hand over the cell phone and spoke to Rhee. "They switched the party planner."

Ho raised his hands in the air and began cursing.

"Carefully search the apartment for clues," Po ordered. "Then have the kidnapped woman fill out a report at the station house."

"Got it, boss," the officer said as Po hung up.

Rhee's mind was almost back to normal. He paced the living room as he spoke.

"This was a high-budget, carefully orchestrated operation," he said.

"So let's take a minute and look at what happened from the start."

"The insurance man was a plant," Ho said. "They replaced my party coordinator and band with others, then put fake guests inside as well."

"It appears they even provided their own security," Rhee noted.